The Alcove
by Marianne Greenleaf
Summary: Harold and Marian celebrate their engagement by sharing a private picnic in the place where the former conman once planned to seduce her.


_Harold: Listen, Buster Brown, I've come up through the ranks on this skirmish – I'm not resigning without my commission._

_Marcellus: But Greg, you can't get anywhere right out here on the footbridge – _

_Harold: There's a place over't Madison Park near the sociable makes this footbridge look like the old ladies home. Now beat it. Go get the rig. (Marcellus exits as Harold returns to Marian) Never a peaceful moment is the music business. (Preparing for the kill) Now then, where were we?_

_~The Music Man libretto/vocal book, Act II, Scene 4_

XXX

_November 1912_

At ten o'clock sharp on the morning after the Halloween masque, Harold Hill knocked on the Paroo front door. And just as he hoped, Marian answered it.

Although she was no longer dressed in her fetching sky-blue Marie Antoinette costume, she still looked as lovely as a picture in her embroidered white blouse and slate gray skirt. A rose pink sash girded her lithe waist, and a soft gray sweater completed this charming ensemble. But best of all, the diamond solitaire he had given her the night before glittered on her finger, and she looked just as thrilled to see him as he was to see her.

Harold had dressed with particular care this morning, wearing a chocolate brown Sunday suit that he knew the librarian found particularly attractive. Now that they were engaged, he didn't have to hold anything back, and could talk without any pretense as to his intentions. The words tumbled out eagerly, almost gracelessly: "I just had to see you, Marian… Madame Curie… my soon-to-be wife… Mrs. Hill."

Fortunately, being in love only made his artlessness even more eloquent. Her beautiful eyes glowing with delight, Marian extended her hand to him and stepped out onto the porch. He immediately took that slim, elegant hand in his and covered it with kisses.

"Oh, Harold," she sighed softly. "I was hoping that you'd come to see me this morning."

"Hoping?" He gave her a heated look. "Oh now, darling, you ought to be expecting my visit. I'm a man who's very much in love and you are my fiancée" – it was such a relief he could now call her that out in the open – "Of course I plan to spend as much time as I possibly can with you!"

She graced him with that wonderfully warm beam of hers. "I'm so glad you feel that way, but I never want to take you for granted, Harold."

He tugged her into his arms. "I appreciate that, Marian, I really do, but I hope you also know that I'm yours now, all yours… "

And he kissed her passionately, right on her mother's front porch. To his delight, she kissed him back with the same heedless fervor. If any passerby disapproved of their display, they'd just have to handle their dismay on their own – given the unexpectedly public nature of his proposal, the music professor and librarian's engagement quickly became common knowledge in River City, and only those with the hardest of hearts would have begrudged a pair of fiancés reveling in their newfound joy. And so they reveled in it unabashedly, until the front door opened and a pointed but amused "Ahem!" was aimed in their direction.

It was Mrs. Paroo, holding a picnic basket. When they turned to face her, Harold with a jaunty grin and Marian with a blushing smile, she laughed indulgently. "I had a feeling you would be dropping by, Professor. So I packed you and Marian a picnic lunch. I'm sure the two of you have a lot to talk about."

When the librarian goggled at her mother – she hadn't been nearly so lenient about their demonstrative behavior these past few weeks – the matron let out a wry chuckle. "Oh, don't give me that fish-jawed look, me girl. You'll be married at the end of the month – it's about darn time, too! – and there'd be something wrong if you _weren't_ carrying on like that. So don't just stand there gawping, go enjoy the day together. All I ask is that you be back in time for supper at six."

Harold gave his mother-in-law-to-be the courtliest bow he could muster. "You have my word, Mrs. Paroo."

"Now, none of that, me boy," she chortled, though she looked as pleased by his elaborate manners as she always was. "I know you'll take good care of my daughter. Just make sure you manage to do a little wedding planning in the middle of all that _not_ talking you'll be getting up to."

"Mama!" exclaimed Marian, her blush deepening. But the smile remained on her face, nevertheless.

Mrs. Paroo handed her daughter the picnic basket. "Shoo," she said affectionately, waving her hands at them to punctuate this command.

Harold didn't need to be told twice. Taking the basket in one hand and Marian's hand in his other, he pulled her to join him in a brisk constitutional.

XXX

"So where would you like to go for our picnic, Harold?" Marian asked as they walked along. She would have suggested the faraway field, but he was ferrying her along as if he already had a location in mind, and it wasn't in that direction.

Indeed, he replied, "I know of the perfect little spot in Madison Picnic Park. I discovered it last July when I was scouting for places to hide should the need arise, and I've been wanting to take you there for some time."

Her curiosity was piqued even further. "Oh? Why haven't you taken me there until now?"

He regarded her with a sheepish grin. "Well, it was a little _too_ private for a courting couple."

Marian's heart flip-flopped in her chest. "But not for an engaged one?" she asked, both nervous and excited.

Harold brought her to a halt and turned her toward him. "Marian… I'm not planning to take any liberties with you that a decent man wouldn't. But I do want to spend a little time with my wife-to-be without any possibility of interruption. Not even the footbridge can provide that guarantee."

As if to prove his point, they were immediately hailed by Mrs. Squires and Mrs. Hix. Every single person they had passed thus far was so delighted about their upcoming nuptials that they stopped the music professor and librarian to express their hearty congratulations. Marian didn't mind these interruptions too much, as it was still a nice novelty to be fawned at rather than scorned as an object of suspicion. Though if truth be told, she did share a great deal of the music professor's eagerness to be alone as soon as they could arrange it. Fortunately, Harold was a master of flattering and then dispatching these well-wishers, which he did with all speed. When they finally reached Madison Picnic Park, he immediately spirited her down a less visible trail, lest they get caught in another round of unwanted socializing. As they wended their way through the foliage, it hemmed in closer and closer until it was catching at their clothing.

Harold moved ahead and gallantly parted the branches in front of them so Marian's sweater and gown wouldn't rip. "We're almost there," he assured her, swatting a bundle of leaves out of his face. "It gets thickest just before it opens up."

Indeed, just as Marian was certain they could go no further, Harold moved aside one final mass of vegetation to reveal a surprisingly pristine clearing.

She gazed around in awe as they exited the foliage. "Harold, this _is _perfect."

He flashed her a grin that was far more relieved than triumphant. "Oh good, I was hoping you'd like it here."

"Very much," she assured him.

"You know… I was considering proposing to you here," he said, giving her the sweet, fond look that always made her tingle. "But I decided the footbridge would be the most romantic choice. It's just too bad we never made it there!"

As Harold spoke, he opened the picnic basket and removed a thick blanket – the very same afghan they had once wrapped themselves together in while canoodling on the parlor sofa, when they were alone in her house and a thunderstorm raged outside. As he spread it out on a patch of grass and clover, Marian remembered the way he looked in his shirtsleeves, and shivered pleasantly.

His eyes met hers and twinkled with mischief. "Do you suppose your mother knows the significance of this blanket, my dear little librarian?"

Marian couldn't help laughing. "Not even Mama would be so permissive, as much as she's attempting to make up for spoiling your proposal plans last night."

"Well, she's doing a wonderful job of atoning, whether she knows it or not," Harold said happily. Motioning for her to take a seat, he started dishing out the food.

At first, they ate in companionable silence, gazing at the burst of autumn color surrounding them. Truly, they couldn't have picked a more perfect day for a fall picnic. The weather was agreeably cool and crisp and the azure sky was filled with bright, puffy cumulous clouds. After they finished lunch, Marian was so overcome by the beauty of the day that she laid back on the blanket in order to better stare up at the heavens above.

XXX

When Harold turned back toward the librarian after putting the remnants of their lunch in the basket, he was charmed to see her lying in a supine position on the blanket. He knew their engagement had only increased her trust in him, but he never would have expected her to be so comfortable reclining in his presence so soon.

It would have been so easy to simply lie down next to her. And since they were now engaged, she'd probably allow it. But as much as he ached to join her, he still felt duty-bound to seek her consent first.

"Marian," he whispered.

The most enchanting blush suffused her cheeks and she immediately sat up, to his chagrin. "Forgive me, Harold, I forgot myself entirely. It's just – I used to do this all the time when I went to the faraway field by myself."

He cupped her cheek. "There's no need for apologies, my dear little librarian. I just wanted to know if you would allow me to join you in admiring nature's glory at a more comfortable angle that won't put a crick in our necks? I didn't want to presume."

"You're my fiancé now, so it wouldn't be a presumption," she said, gazing at him with that intoxicating blend of longing and uncertainty.

He gazed just as intently and apprehensively back at her. "That's a wonderful sentiment, darling, but I don't want to take _you_ for granted, either."

Marian nodded and bit her lip, considering. "It wouldn't be too improper?"

Harold had to repress a smile. They had already done so many heated things during their courtship – a love-bite to her neck in the emporium, his head in her lap at the faraway field, their hips pressed together at her front gate – that laying side by side would actually have been rather tame in comparison. He was almost tempted to teasingly make this observation, but she had such a skittish look in her eyes that he feared scaring her off physical intimacy completely, and that was the last outcome he wanted.

So he offered her an out. "I don't think so, darling, but if you don't feel comfortable, we can stay upright."

"You're my fiancé," she said softly. "I would like to sky-gaze with you."

That was good enough for Harold – he stretched out and laid on the blanket. After a moment, she joined him. As they lay side by side in their private little haven, their hands found each other's and twined together. And as luck would have it, his right hand held her left, so he could trace her ring with his fingers – a reminder that both steadied and emboldened him to explore this fascinating new territory they had embarked on.

"Marian… do you still have that piano shawl?" he asked as they continued to gaze skyward.

"I do," she said, sounding delighted that he remembered. "Papa gave it to Mama as a wedding gift, so I doubt she'll allow me to take it when we marry." She paused for a moment, as if wrestling with her conscience before making the following admission: "But I've been sleeping with it every night since your visit, and will continue to do so until our wedding day."

At that, Harold just had to look at her – and was delighted to see that she had already turned her head to face him. And she was gazing at him with almost breathless invitation. By all rights, this would have been the perfect moment to kiss her. Regardless of all the dishonest and disreputable things he had done – or even merely thought of doing – in the past, he had indisputably earned his place by her side over the past four months. So he should have had no qualms about kissing her.

But somehow, he did. As much as Harold was trying to enjoy himself since they'd stepped foot in this little clearing, his conscience continued to nag at him. Although their relationship had come so far since that day on the parlor sofa, he couldn't let himself go until he was completely square with her.

"Marian… the real reason I scouted out this place was not so much to hide from the law, but to take _you_ here before I had to leave town." He paused a bit to let that sink in, resisting the habit to sell to her. After all, she deserved to know exactly what kind of man she was actually marrying, no matter how embarrassing it was to reveal his previous dishonorable intentions. When the librarian gazed at him intently and without condemnation, he was heartened enough to continue, "When we marry, you're going to get to know all of me. Not just this" – he gestured up and down the length of his body – "But also this" – he tapped his head – "On our wedding night, you'll put two and two together about some other things about me and, when you do, I hope you remember that whatever I've done before, I'm all yours now."

Harold stopped and swallowed. He hadn't meant to spoil their day together, but ever since he'd taken the plunge and told Marian about what happened to his father, he couldn't help being an open book about his failings and uncertainties. As he gazed desperately at her, waiting for her verdict, it occurred to him that despite his reformation, he was still prone to risking everything. Because it was exhilarating when the risk paid off.

Thankfully, things once again went beautifully for him. The love in the librarian's eyes did not dim one iota as she regarded him and, when she finally spoke, it wasn't to break their engagement. "Harold, I am already well aware of what your intentions were before you reformed, and I forgive you for them. What I would like to know now is when your heart changed and your intentions toward me became honorable."

Harold grinned in sheer relief, as the answer to that question was easy. "When you told me you loved me that night on the footbridge. I stopped wanting to seduce you, well, before marriage, anyway" – he chuckled nervously – "and started wanting to protect you from men like me. That night, I promised myself I wouldn't ever take anything from you without giving you everything in return."

Looking positively elated, Marian nodded, as if his words confirmed something she'd always suspected. "That night, I trusted you completely."

Now Harold could kiss her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close – but not too close – and did just that. But their kiss was soft and sweet, and Harold took great care not to increase the intensity of it, for there would be no one to interrupt them if they got too carried away. As an additional safeguard, he kept his hands firmly curled around her waist, so they would not roam everywhere they itched to go.

It was both a blessing and a curse that Marian kissed him back so freely and enthusiastically. As he'd warned her, she wasn't quite aware of some things yet, and there were still some subjects that were too dangerous to talk too much about, even as fiancés. Although they were lying down as they embraced, they were not pressed flush together, which was a good thing, as he was so hard for her that if her hips met his, he could not have moved away, even for love.

But it was love that gave Harold the strength to be the one to end their kiss and to pull Marian up into a sitting position with him, in order to minimize the temptation of going further than even engagement would allow. But he still wasn't ready to end their _not_ talking just yet – turning his body so that his legs were stretched out in the opposite direction from hers, he took her in his arms again. Now that they were seated in a position with absolutely no risk of their hips meeting, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her sweet scent of lavender cleanliness.

"Oh Harold, I can't wait to marry you," she breathed in return, voicing the very desire pulsing through his veins. _Madame Curie… my soon-to-be wife… Mrs. Hill_. This spellbinding tune played in a steady rhythm through his brain, and he sang it softly in her ear as he held her and traced his lips gently but possessively over every lovely contour in her face and neck.

"I've been dreaming of marrying you ever since that night on the footbridge," he confessed, his voice a groan, his mind a haze of sheer instinct and need.

Marian laughed in a throaty, come-hither way that he'd never heard from her before, but found absolutely delectable. It was a laugh for the bedroom, for pillow talk, for seduction, a laugh that went straight to below his belt and lodged there, as sure and true as William Tell's arrow to the apple. At that moment, Harold made it his life's work to see how many times he could get her to make that wonderful sound again.

But first, he supposed he ought to at least do a little wedding planning, as he'd promised her mother. "And what kind of wedding have you been dreaming of, my dear little librarian?"

Her laugh turned acerbic, though not unpleasantly so. "Well… Mrs. Shinn has asked me to allow the Events Committee to help with the planning. They were all so excited about our engagement that I didn't have the heart to say no. And they've already got a meeting set up to discuss the matter tomorrow morning! I honestly don't mind letting them handle the details, but does it bother you?"

Harold vehemently shook his head. "Not in the least. The ceremony is not nearly as important to me as the marriage itself. I know you're formidable enough not to allow them to run roughshod over you, so let them have their fun." Feeling that his matrimonial obligations were now more than adequately fulfilled for the time being, he tightened his arms around his bride-to-be and covered her mouth with his.

And so they remained ensconced in each other's arms, doing a great deal of _not_ talking, until the shadows lengthened and the air grew too cool even for the most ardent of their embraces to warm them up. Once again, it was Harold who ended things between them.

"I won't have you catching cold, my dear little librarian," he said as he helped his shivering fiancée to her feet. He was charmed by her open expression of disgruntlement, even as she sensibly heeded his admonition and helped him pack everything up, so he took the liberty of consoling her with a long, ardent kiss before they finally emerged from the alcove. That was the wonderful thing about being engaged – they no longer had to hide how much they wanted each other and, even though some prudent restraint was still required, they had far more leeway to engage in the sort of clandestine canoodling that would have been frowned upon if they were still merely courting.

Though the month ahead seemed almost agonizingly long, there were now so many things Harold could do to tide himself over until they could finally become one in every sense of the word. He could kiss Marian good morning, afternoon, and night. He could walk her to and from the library every single day. He could share every single meal with her and her family. He could steal long moments with her in the stacks on a quiet afternoon with few library patrons. He could take her to the footbridge. And he looked forward to doing each and every one of these things in the weeks to come until she was Mrs. Hill and he could finally take her home.

And perhaps one day he would take her back to this delightfully hidden alcove, and they could do all the heated and decadent things he'd dreamed of doing with her here, even after becoming a legitimate music man. Of course, it would be a long while yet before Marian was ready for such scandalous trysting. But Harold had no doubt from the way that she looked at, held, and kissed him that eventually, she would be his true equal in making love. It was just a matter of coaxing her to blossom into her full potential, a prospect he looked forward to cultivating with great relish. Music wasn't the only application for the Think System, after all.

But for now, Harold simply wrapped his arm around his wife-to-be's waist, and she nestled into his embrace as they walked toward her home to share supper with her family… and soon to be, his.


End file.
